


Beauty and the Beast, but gay

by LesbianMonsterLover



Category: Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types, Original Work
Genre: Cunnilingus, Exophilia, F/F, Face Sitting, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Just a little bit angsty, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Relationship, Lesbian Sex, My Own AU, Smut, Teratophilia, Where Beast is a Woman, fast burn, thigh riding, tiny angsty, wlw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-01 22:09:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19186354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LesbianMonsterLover/pseuds/LesbianMonsterLover
Summary: I’m absolute Beauty and the Beast trash.  We’re going with my own take on the tale with a female beast.  This is going to have a fluffy as fuck relationship, some smut, and a happy ending, but yeah I had to make this angsty in places so just be forewarned.Per period standards you wear dresses and have long hair, but otherwise as usual I try to leave the rest of your appearance to your imagination.





	1. The First Meeting

Deep in the woods, down an overgrown and forgotten road, lies a castle. If you were to ask the surrounding towns and hamlets who their liege was, they would answer that they had none, they never had in fact, and they were lucky enough to govern themselves for the most part. In this castle lives a queen, forgotten and bitter, ruling over nothing but empty halls and bleak gardens. As an arrogant young woman, left to rule early by the untimely death of her father, she spurned an old hag who had come asking for shelter. Turning away her ugliness, declaring that such a visage had no place in the gilded halls of her palace, she watched awestruck as the hag morphed into an enchantress of such perfect and ethereal beauty the queen began to weep. 

The queen begged for forgiveness on bended knee, but the sorceress looked down her nose at the gesture. She saw the queen for what she was: hardened, vain, cruel. So the sorceress cast her curse. The castle and its inhabitants would be forgotten by the world, left to rot for a century. If the queen could learn to love, truly love, and earn the love of another in return, the curse would be broken. So the servants all became avatars of their work, left sentient and mobile enough to keep things running. The queen was cursed with a twisted, dark visage to match the cruelty and malice hidden within.

Nearly nine feet tall with a shaggy coat of auburn fur, matching the hair of her human form. Her face was unrecognizable, like some cross between a cat and a goat, with rams horns curling over her ears. Her eyes, at least, were the same cool green they had always been, although as the years went on she became less thankful for the burden of knowing that what she saw in her reflection truly was her own face. She was broad at the shoulder and at the hip, with a feminine waist and figure, although the hugely muscular arms that came from helping to propel herself with her knuckles were new. She dressed mostly in masculine clothing now, her father’s old shirts and trousers altered to fit her frame. Of all of the changes this curse wrought, this she was the least upset over. Even as vain as she was, she had always hated gowns and preferred the elegant lines of men’s court dress. Having an excuse to don breeches and shirts was the only silver lining she could find.

It had been nearly ninety years since that night, and her time was growing slowly to a close. It had been three decades since a human had even set foot in her castle or on its grounds, and none of them could leave the bounds of their land. It had been years since she had even left the castle grounds and ventured out into the surrounding forest, still technically part of the estate. She’s walking the garden when the sound of muffled sobs near her rose bushes draw her attention. A human woman is huddled on the cold ground, the first frost taking hold and leaving nothing but freezing hard earth. Her face is in her hands, head bent and hair loose from its plait and curtaining her. When the human sniffles and wipes her cheeks, the queen gets her first look at you, eyes glassy with tears and face slack with grief. You’re still so beautiful, and she’s intent on wooing you to break this wretched curse.

~~~

You had never really fit in when it came to the other townsfolk of your small hamlet. You had your father, your horse, and your books, and that was enough for you. Well, mostly. It would have been plenty had it not been for the others in such close proximity. While it’s convenient to live within such close proximity to the market square, and therefore the book shop, you still feel incredibly out of place. 

“Ah, my sweet lovely bride, there you are!” Oh, and there’s also Gerard, who you really wish had just died on the front lines at war instead of coming back lauded as a hero. Not only did this inflate his already massive ego, but the hero worship he received made him feel entitled to the attention and affection of any woman he so desired. It just so happened he desired you. You’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve spurned his advances, getting progressively sterner with each no you’re forced to give. You’d have thought after the first few times he’d move on to someone else in the village, but he seemed absolutely stuck on you. 

The glares from other eligible women that come with the attention from Gerard make you even more reluctant to go into town. You had a hard enough time interacting with others out in the world without the constant heat of glares on the back of your skull. Honestly, you wish those glares really would set you on fire. Maybe then at least you’d be rid of Gerard, what with the disfiguring scars that would be the result. “I am not your bride, Gerard.” Your deadpan reply and flat stare do nothing to deter him.

Perhaps, if you were interested in him in the first place, his attention would be flattering. You cannot deny that he is an attractive man, tall and muscular with an angular face and masculine jaw. His clear blue eyes are cold though, and calculating. You want love, desire, passion, the things that your parents had in their marriage. He wants you because you’re beautiful, not because you’re you. “Come now, don’t be so difficult pet. What more could you want in a husband than myself? Rich, powerful, handsome.” The way he purrs the last word makes the two girls peeking out from the baker’s shop sigh and swoon. It just makes you sigh…in exasperation. 

“I don’t know, Gerard. Love, respect, intelligence?” Your biting remark makes him scowl at you darkly, grabbing your jaw painfully with one of his large hands. 

“Listen here, pet. You can refuse me now, but your father won’t be here to protect you forever. What then? We all know unmarried women of your station are worth less than nothing. Or do you want to wind up out on the street?” He shoves your face away like it burned him, scowling as he gruffly calls for his footman to follow him. You cup your tender chin and walk back home, foregoing a trip to the bookstore today as you had planned. You try hard not to let what Gerard said get under your skin, but it isn’t as though he’s wrong… Still, you have your father, and your home, and as long as you have that you have the hope that you can hold out for someone who will love you. 

Returning to the little cottage you shared with you father you were immediately struck by how quiet it is. This is unusual, especially considering that at this time of day your father should be wrist deep in his latest noisy project, humming along to some internal song that only he can hear. Instead you find him slumped over the table, still breathing but not conscious. You’re rushing, and do what you can to make him comfortable on a pallet on the floor while you run out to get a doctor. 

Sadly, along with the doctor you find Gerard, and he insists on coming along. A stroke is what the physician called it, and there was the possibility that your father would never wake. Gerard gave you a pitying look, but tried to twist it to his advantage. “See, pet? What are you going to do now? How will you care for him?” You kick him out with a teary glare, and the physician helps you get him situated into a cart in order for your father to be taken to the local clinic where he’d at least get round the clock care. 

When you wake up the next morning, you’re worried. If nothing else, your father was at least cared for. There was enough money stashed to keep him at the clinic for months, but not much else. You’d get by on your stash of preserved food for a few weeks, but what would you do for money after that? It is with this thought on your mind that you pack a bag with enough to get you through the day and take off on your horse into the forest behind your village. Instead of taking the well worn road out to the larger village a few hours ride from here, you decide to take a detour down an overgrown path.

You remember walking this little road as a child, but cannot seem to remember where it leads. You stop for lunch at the side of a small stream, allowing your horse to graze and drink while you relax with your feet dipped into the cold water. When you mount back up the sun is well into the sky, although not quite at midday, and the air is warm enough that you can remove your cloak. The fresh cool air is nice, and you take your time following the path until it ends at a rusted wrought iron gate.

When you dismount and walk up to the gate, curious, something spooks your horse and sends her bolting back the way you came. You run after her for a while, but as the sun crests in the sky at its highest point you know that you’re going to have to find somewhere tonight to hunker down in order to make it back to town tomorrow. With any luck, your horse will have made her way back without you and she’ll be waiting when you return. 

The walk back to the gates is long and by the time you reach them again the sun is dipping below the trees, casting long foreboding shadows. When you try the rusted gate it pops open with a groan that shakes your ribs, just enough for you to slip through. The walk from the gate is lined with beautiful and terrible statues, the lifelike marble women being embraced and devoured by demons. Gooseflesh raises on your arms, but it isn’t like you have much of an option anyway. You cannot be out in the forest at night without protection, and your cloak and bag are still draped over your mare’s saddle. Rubbing your arms for warmth you continue trekking up the path, although you’re distracted by a branch off of it that leads to a garden full of rose bushes surrounding a fountain. Sitting on the fountain’s edge you sigh, gazing at the blood-red roses peeking out from the verdant green. 

You aren’t sure when you begin crying, but a chill wind cools the tracks of your tears along your cheeks. When you lift a hand to wipe them away, more come unbidden, until you’re heaving on the stone with great, body wracking sobs. It takes a few moments for you to calm, memories of your mother’s casket, covered in roses. Your father’s limp body slouched on your shared table. It would be so much easier if you could just disappear. 

The crunch of gravel under heavy feet makes you startle, sniffling and trying to compose yourself before you call out. “H-hello? Is there someone there? I’m lost, and looking for a place to stay for the night.” You call out to the wind but hear nothing back, but you still follow the sound as best you can. There’s nothing there, although if you were a tracker you may have noticed the huge, clawed footprints disturbing the chilled grass. You follow the path back up to the huge castle, standing trembling in front of the giant wooden doors. 

As soon as you place a hand on it, it opens as if by magic. “Hello? Is there anyone there?” The way your voice echoes around you is haunting, and you can almost feel the tingle of something otherworldly in your bones. “Hello? Please, if there’s someone here, I need help!” You shiver at the breeze that passes through the castle, but the murmur of voices and a faint flickering coming from down the long hall to the East seem to draw you in. “Hello! Please, I’m lost in the woods and need a place to stay for the evening, until I can find my way back in the light of day.” 

The murmuring you thought you heard stops, but the faint flicker of a fireplace still glows in the distance, growing ever closer as your feet click solitary footfalls onto the marble floor. You enter what looks like a sitting room, with one huge fireplace along the back wall, two wing back chairs in front of it with a small side table between them. There’s a chaise perpendicular to the two chairs on one side, and a settee on the other with a huge black waistcoat draped over it. You marvel at the size of it, surely whatever man wore this must be the biggest person in the world. It looked to be in good condition, if a little frayed at the buttonholes, and importantly much like everything else in this castle it was without a speck of dust. 

“So, you’ve decided to let yourself in then.” The voice makes you gasp, and as you turn to greet whoever owns that voice you stumble. Falling, you’re prepared to hit the unforgiving stone with your skirt-covered bottom but you’re surprised to feel a cushion beneath you instead. It’s an ottoman, a sentient ottoman, and it gives a rough bark like a dog before scurrying away with you firmly seated on its back. It settles down by the fire, with you still on it, and you’re frozen there with confusion. You look back over at the doorway, finding a hugely imposing figure standing there silhouetted in the darkness. “Has no one ever told you it is rude to impose yourself on others?”

The voice is somehow feminine, but that seems impossible considering the size of the figure before you. Surely they are at least as tall as the door frame, if not taller, and nearly as broad across. “I’m sorry to intrude, I was out for a ride when my horse bolted without me on her. There was no way for me to make it back to town before nightfall, and surely out there alone I would freeze to death. Please, I apologize for my rudeness, but I would appreciate a place to stay for the evening. I do not have much to give you, but I will do my best to repay you as you need.”

There’s a low growl from the shadow, and then a rough laugh. “A place to stay, hm? Are you sure you’re any safer in here than you are out there, girl?” The shadow steps out into the ring of light emanating from the fireplace and you gasp when you catch your first sight of the beast. Your heart is beating like a rabbit and your breath coming in fast gasps. The snarl and scowl on their face bares huge teeth at you, but their eyes are full of more fear and self loathing than they are burning hatred. Something about their eyes draws you in, there’s the same burning desire for love and acceptance deep in there that you can read much like your own. “Well? Nothing to say then? Too scared to run? To scream?” But you simply fix her with a shy smile, pulse still nervously flitting in your neck. 

“I’m not going to run from you.” You aren’t prepared for how cute she looks as her face goes slack with confusion, like a lost puppy. “I just wasn’t expecting you, that’s all.”


	2. The First Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have dinner and get flirted with, but back at the village something is brewing.

She isn’t quite sure what she expected from you, but a sweet if nervous smile flitting across your face was not it. “I’m not going to run from you.” She wants to scoff, but she just fixes you with a confused look and stays silent for you to continue. “I just wasn’t expecting you, that’s all.” Now she does scoff, but something about how softly you’re looking at her prompts her to give a resigned rumble of a growl from her chest and turn on her heel. 

She begins stalking out of the room, mulling you over in her mind. She had never had much interest in the princes that would come calling for her hand, and the power of their kingdom gave her the luxury to remain unmarried. Her tastes had always leaned toward the fairer sex, often instead of the princes that had come to court her she would instead find herself in a dalliance with their sisters or even mothers in a few cases. You were precisely her taste, as far as physical attributes went, but what intrigued her most was the sharpness about you that was tempered by a feminine kindness she found almost intoxicating. So soft, so gentle, she wanted to be pinned by your gaze forever.

She’s a few steps out the door when the notices that you aren’t following, and she turns to look at you from over her shoulder. Her emerald eyes shine from the darkness like a beacon. “Are you coming to dinner? Or are you just going to stand there gawking?” She doesn’t mean to be so rough, truly, but when you go several decades without meaningful human interaction it’s going to take a toll on your social ability. Especially when presented with someone so alluring. She growls to herself as she turns again, continuing to stride powerfully down the hallway but slowing her gait to give you a chance to catch up.

As you’re walking beside her she gives a nod to a steward who gives the order to begin lighting the torches. She’s delighted by the gasp of wonder you let out as the palace is lit from within. She watches your face as you take everything in with wide eyes, and seeing as you’re distracted enough she takes a moment to appreciate your form. The dress you have on is a beautiful cornflower blue, and topped with a rather cute white apron. It’s simple but it suits you, although she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t imagining draping you in every bit of finery she could scrounge up in this place. You’d look wonderful in yellow, she’s sure, dripping with gold and gems from her mother’s jewelry box, looking like the sun had been pulled down from the sky just for her. 

Dinner is an affair, her chef-stove taking the opportunity to create a culinary masterpiece the likes of which the castle hadn’t seen for decades. Pulling out all the stops, she’s delighted to watch you eat dish after dish as she plies you with questions, tongue loosened by wine. “I just needed to get away for the day. My father, he’s rather ill and the doctor isn’t sure if he’ll ever wake. I’ve left him in a care clinic, but that leaves just me in the home and, well, there aren’t any jobs for unmarried young women in my village that I’d be willing to do, if you understand me.” Her heart breaks for you. She understands you perfectly, even if she doesn’t have the firsthand knowledge of what it’s like to be put in that kind of situation. Her rumble of assent seems to be enough for you to continue. “On top of that, there’s this…this man…” the way you spit out that word makes her huff out a laugh “this horrible monster of a man who doesn’t seem to understand what the word no means. He’s asked for my hand a dozen times, in increasingly desperate ways, and every time I rebuff him his reactions get worse. After my father collapsed…well I didn’t want to be in the house today for when he inevitably came by to ask to marry me again. I’m not sure I’d have made it out entirely intact.” 

The snarl on her face makes you squeak a little in fear, eyes widening. She takes a deep breath in to school her expression. “What a horrid pissant.” Your rather unladylike snort of laughter makes her smirk. “I do not miss my interactions with men. Dreadful, entitled beings with rare exception.” Your giggle is what she was after, and the two of you trade stories back and forth about your experiences with men. When you collapse into a heap of laughter at her telling of the time she managed to convince a rather stupid prince that the castle was haunted by simply kicking the post of the table they sat at for tea, she knows it’s time to bring you to your room. You’re definitely drunk, but bubbly and lively. When you stand and wobble she offers you her arm, like a gentleman should, and escorts you to a rather lavishly furnished guest room. 

When she returns to her own chambers, dark and decrepit from years of her pent up aggression being taken out on the furnishings, she collapses into her pile of pillows and down comforters with a sigh. You could it be, could be the one to break the curse and the one she would spend hopefully the rest of her life with. But you’ll be going back to that shitty little village tomorrow, you’d forget all about her as those who leave these lands always do, and she’ll be left here to rot along with all of the poor staff who she’d brought down with her. If only she could convince you to stay longer, to give her a chance to show you how she could provide for you. But she would not keep you prisoner. She knows too well what it means to be trapped by these four walls with no real freedom, longing for connection and intimacy. No, you were not a bird to be kept in a gilded cage. With a heavy heart she sinks into sleep, resigned to her fate and whispering apologies out into the void for the lives of those in her employ who would fall victim with her to her own weaknesses.

~~~

When you wake the next morning you’re rather hungover but still remember last night with decent clarity. The mysterious beast who lived in the castle was a woman, seemingly a noblewoman of high standing who before whatever happened here used to cavort around with the princes and diplomats from foreign nations. She was sharp and witty, her dry sense of humor magnifying the absolute stupidity of some of her former compatriots. Even in this form she was attractive, in a dangerous way that made your heart thrum in your chest and nerves feel on fire. Her fur was so soft, and your cheeks heat when you vaguely remember burying your face against the fur of her neck when she caught you from stumbling.

Part of you is loathe to leave today, but you know that you must get back to the cottage and sort things out. You’ll need to count your coins and talk to the owner of the book shop about perhaps taking on a position there in some capacity dusting, cleaning, anything he needed. So long as you could get some coin in your purse to scrounge up a living on so you wouldn’t have to seriously consider the advances of Gerard. If you got to that point you don’t know what you’d do, so it’s best not to dwell on it. 

When you finally muster the energy a few minutes after waking, you stand from the bed and stretch. The pop and crack of your back and shoulders makes you sigh in relief, and you take a moment to limber up before washing your face in a basin and slipping your dress back on over your shift. Peeling back the curtains your face goes worried at the blizzard raging outside, the happy pop and crackle of the roaring fire in your fireplace was enough to drown out the wind whipping outside of the castle walls. 

The knock on the door of your guest chambers surprises you, but when your hostess opens the door after you call for her to enter you fix her with a large, if sheepish, smile. “I see you’ve noticed our predicament, sweetheart.” The pet name makes your cheeks flush and she smirks, hitting the mark. “I’m afraid you may be here for the foreseeable future, I know you needed to get back to town but I don’t believe you’d make it there in these conditions. I’d offer you the use of a horse if I had one, darling, but I do not.” She looks at you sadly, although hopeful, and her eyes brighten when you giggle and smile at her sweetly.

“Well, I can think of worse places to get stuck, and with worse company.” When you wink you can tell she’s flustered by the way her jaw tightens and she looks away from you. “I appreciate the effort, but seriously, I’m happy to be here. Thank you for not leaving me out there last night.” You place your hand on her arm, your fingers sinking into warm auburn fur and finding hard corded muscle beneath. She grumbles at you, gaze unreadable, and you can tell she’s gone somewhere in her mind that isn’t exactly pleasant.

“I learned long ago not to turn away those in need. Come then, let’s find us something to do today. Tell me, sweet, what do you enjoy? Chess? Painting? Needlepoint?”

“Books.” Your answer is immediate, and your cheeks are still flushed as she gazes at you with warm eyes. She doesn’t answer you though, merely nods and turns to walk down the hall at a slow enough pace that you can follow alongside. When she walks slowly she can manage on just her hindquarters, those hugely muscular thighs and hips too much to be contained by regular breeches. She had been wearing them last night when she took you to dinner, but you could see how they strained at the seams. She’s in a pair of riding pants today, the fabric seems to have more give to it and is cut on the bias to allow for even more stretch. Her white blouse is tucked into the pants, although her collar is open to leave room for her neck and scruff. The swell of her breasts is prominent but not overly so, and you find yourself wondering what she looked like before whatever happened. Has she always been like this? Is this a new predicament? 

Before you can ask anything she stops you in front of a set of huge, wooden doors. “Close your eyes.” Under normal circumstances this would be an odd request, you find it especially odd coming from your kind-if-rough-around-the-edges host, but you do so anyway, not only closing your eyes but covering them with your hands. When the door before you opens you’re hit with a blast of cool air that smells like old paper, worn leather, and firesmoke. It smells like the book shop back in town, a scent you’ve come to love. You feel a large clawed paw on your lower back that gently guides you in. You’re still left in the dark for a bit as you hear someone stoking a fire in the fireplace, but once you can hear the cheery crackling of split wood and the gentle roar of the flames you hear your host’s voice again. “Alright, sweet, open them.”

The windows are too dark with snow to let in much natural light, but the fireplace does a good job of illuminating most of the first level. Looking up into the hugely vaulted ceiling you see at least two more levels above with small walkways and huge moving ladders. You can’t help the gasp you give and the awestruck wonder with which you take in the sight of so many books. “I didn’t know there were even this many books in the world.” You miss the gentle look the queen gives you as you speak in hushed and reverent tones. 

“I want you to be comfortable here, especially with how long it looks like you may be stuck here between the blizzard and the havoc it will undoubtedly wreak on the forest paths. So long as you’re here with me, sweet, you may come here at any time. Nothing but my private quarters are closed off to you, but I implore you to ask for guidance from myself or my staff if you wish to wander, I would hate for you to get lost in our maze of halls just to perish while I search for you.” She’s rambling a little, but you find it endearing and just laugh and nod along. 

“You know, I don’t think I’ve met your staff, are they…like you?” Her face is steel after your question, eyes hard and angry. She shakes her head a gruff no.

“No, I am the only one cursed to look like such a beast. They were all victims of my hubris and selfishness.” Okay, so she hasn’t always looked like this and she’s bitter about it. While you’re mulling over the fact that you’re, well, pretty attracted to her, and you’re trying to figure out how to tell her you think she’s beautiful without coming across as patronizing, she calls out someone’s name.

You hear what sounds like wooden legs scurrying across marble when you’re bowled into by the ottoman who saved your butt from hitting the marble last night. It lets out a low, rumbling bark that makes you laugh at the absurdity of the situation. You do your very best to pet the ottoman, running your palms along its broad back and taking the time to scratch at the seam where the cushion met the frame. Your host is smiling fondly down at you as you play with the “dog,” who has chosen to settle on your lap with a satisfied sigh. 

“Okay, so your staff are…furniture?” She sighs, kneeling down beside you to scratch under what you’re hoping is the chin side of this ottoman. 

“Many years ago, I was spoiled and selfish and vain. I allowed my bitterness and anger to turn me into a monster, and I justified all of it by the fact that I was queen and none could defy me. I was cursed, and rightfully so, for denying an old woman shelter on a night much like last night. I denied her because she was ugly, and I thought such creatures didn’t deserve a place in my beautiful palace. It wasn’t her that was ugly though, it was me. She proved it simply by making the outside match the inside.” She way she gazes, almost unseeingly, down at her paws makes your heart hurt for her. 

“How do we break the curse?” She’s startled out of her reverie by your hand on hers, and when she glances at your face she’s struck by the sincerity and openness on it. “I want to help, you’ve been so kind to me, I think you’ve…I hope at least you’ve learned the lesson you were meant to. Let me help you, it’s the least I can do.” 

She gives you a sad smile, more of a grimace or a sneer than a smile really but you understand the sentiment behind her bared teeth. Her huge paw comes up to touch your cheek gently, not daring to cup your face in her hand lest you realize what you’re sitting across from. “Oh you sweet, gentle girl. Thank you, but I am resigned to my fate. If you’re happy to keep me company though while you’re here, that is more than I could ever ask.” You agree readily, eyes bright as you instruct her to get settled on the chaise by the fireplace.

“We’re going to read together! Or, well, one of us will read to the other. Now…let’s see…” You let her instruct you to her most beloved collection of books, all of them well worn with weak spines and creased leather. She loved her books, you can tell, and you’ll do right by them. You swear. Picking the most loved and creased volume of all you wander back over to the chaise and settle yourself closest to the fire, between the warm wall of muscle and fur of your host and the hard arm of the chaise.

She plucks the book from your hands, looking down at it longingly. Her huge paws dwarf the small, leather-bound tome. She flips it open to a particular page, the book falls open there easily so you guess that she studied this page a thousand times. Her long tongue licks nervously over the corner of her muzzle and she skims the page with one claw, eyes full of unexpressed emotion.

“That man to me seems equal to the gods,

The man who sits opposite you

And close by listens

To your sweet voice/

And your enticing laughter–

That indeed has stirred up the heart in my breast.

For whenever I look at you even briefly

I can no longer say a single thing,/

But my tongue is frozen in silence;

Instantly a delicate flame runs beneath my skin;

With my eyes I see nothing;

My ears make a whirring noise./

A cold sweat covers me,

Trembling seizes my body,

And I am greener than grass.

Lacking but little of death do I seem.”

Her voice is low and longing, each word dripping unbidden with hidden meaning. “Did you write that?” You voice is wondering and it makes her laugh loud and clear. It doesn’t sound like that’s a noise she’s made in a long, long while if the rasp from its disuse is anything to go by. 

“No, sweet, but thank you for thinking that something so beautiful could come from someone as ugly inside as I was.” She pushes a long lock of hair behind your ear as she stares down at you softly. “It was written by Sappho, a woman from Ancient Greece who wrote poetry about loving other women, the way men love them.” 

Your cheeks are hot but you can’t look away from her face. Loving other women? You’d never given much thought to the fact that you hadn’t found a man attractive in, well, ever. You figured it had more to do with the lack of options in your little village than anything about men as a whole. Thinking on it though, whenever you imagined your life going forward you never really imagined a husband. Sure, you imagined a partner with you, someone to share your days and your burdens, but as you dwell on it for a moment you come to a rather sudden realization that you never much liked men in the first place. “Will you read me more?”

Your host chuckles, thumbing your chin. “Of course, sweet. Here, let me read you some of my favorite fragments…” She trails off, flipping through the thin pages looking for something in particular. That’s how the two of you spend the whole of the morning and most of the afternoon. A rather sweet teapot brings a rolling cart with lunch and tea on it, chattering happily with her companions as they leave when you thank each of them individually with a sweet smile. 

When you collapse back into your bed that night, the storm still raging outside the castle leaving the sky nothing but a sheet of gray, you do so with a smile on your face.

At the same moment you collapse into bed, your horse has been found still saddled but without you on it, shivering in the barn and eating the last of the hay that had been set out. The stablehand from the inn takes charge, and Gerard has plans to use this to his advantage. He pays, quite happily, for the inn to board and care for your mare. Once the snow lets up he is going to go into the woods in search of you. Either he will bring you back agreeing to be his wife, or he will leave you there to rot and claim to have found nothing but some tattered remains of your dress. Yes, he will get what he wants, or you will just have to die, because if he cannot have you then, well, what’s the use of you existing?

You fall asleep, blissfully unaware of the plans of that toad back at your village. You’re simply looking forward to tomorrow, wondering what else your host can introduce into your life.


	3. The First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...and then some. We’ve made it friends, the first smut scene of this series.

The next morning you wake to soft giggles coming from the little table at the head of your rather luxurious feather bed. When you roll over, your long hair having come partially loose from its plait and haloing around your head like a mane, you notice a teacup laughing at you. Considering the whole dog-ottoman from yesterday, and all of the sentient flatware, you aren’t exactly surprised…but your cheeks do feel hot. “Morning! I thought you would never wake up! Mama said I had to be quiet until you were awake but now that you are we can play! Hi! I’m Chip!” 

You sit up in bed, laughing and rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you right yourself and turn to face the little cup fully. You scoop him up in your hands and bring him to eye level, smiling kindly. “Good morning Chip, thank you for letting me sleep in.” You can’t help placing a chaste little kiss on his brow that makes him blush, or at least you think it does considering the way that his cheeks turn a dusty rose color and his face seems to grow warm. 

“Of course! Mama said ladies need their beauty sleep but you’re so pretty already I think you’re making it an unfair competition!” This little flirt, he’s adorable! You laugh and tap your pointer finger on the tip of his handle that seems to function as a nose.

“Why thank you Chip, that’s very sweet of you to say.” You bring him with you to the little dressing table across from the bed and set him down on the surface of it while you sit in front of the mirror to wash your face and comb your hair. You’re partway through a particularly stubborn snarl that’s formed at the nape of your neck when someone raps quite sharply on the door. When you tell them to come in you’re expecting your host to be the one to walk through the door, not a huge and somewhat-ambulatory wardrobe. Your startled look is enough to make the wardrobe laugh, something deep but feminine. 

“Oh, darling, it’s been so long since I got to dress a human! I’m so excited! Come come, let’s see, it’s so cold and draughty downstairs, so you’ll need something warm, hmm… No no, too short… too much embroidery… not enough embroidery… too much skirt… ahhh, there we go, that looks perfect!” She pulls out a long red velvet dress, finer than anything you’ve ever had on before, and a matching capelet trimmed with lush white fur. The neckline and hem of the dress are embroidered with silver thread, and the wrist is trimmed with the same fur of the capelet. “Come on then dear, over here, we’ll get you dressed in a jiff!” She tugs you over with a…is that a ribbon?!, comb still stuck in the knot at the back of your head, and draws you into her interior.

You feel like you’re taking a tumble in a rolling barrel as she quickly divests you of your old clothes and gets you settled in your new ones in under a minute. When you’re spit back out on the bed with a dazed and somewhat dizzy look on your face she just gives that boisterous laugh again. “Now then, what to do with that hair…” By the time she’s finished your hair is brushed through, half loose but half plaited into a crown around your head, keeping it up and out of your face. It’s threaded through with a few flowers from the queen’s garden and you’re sent on your way. 

You’ve missed breakfast, so you wander your way to the library…only getting lost twice! You take in a deep and happy breath as you walk through the large wooden doors, letting it out in a content sigh. “Good morning sweet, I can see that Carina was able to find you.” The gasp and little squeak you let out make your host giggle, and her eyes are burning into you when you turn to face her. “You look ravishing.” Her eyes trail your form so intensely it’s almost like she’s touching you, but the moment is over almost as soon as it began.

“Thank you, you look rather dashing yourself as always.” And you mean it. Her black riding pants offset the crisp white linen shirt, and she’s paired it with a red velvet cravat that matches your dress. Her waistcoat is off again, thrown over the back of the wingback chair she’s currently perched on, and she has her shirtsleeves rolled up to her elbows. 

“Thank you, sweet, but you need not lie for my ego.” You protest, or at least try to, but she just gives you that raspy chuckle and holds up a paw placatingly. “Fine fine, still though, you outshine me by a mile.” She’s rewarded with your face heating and a shy smile from you, making her perk up triumphantly. “Come then, I’ve chosen a book for us today, if you’d be willing to read?” She looks so hopeful you can’t help but agree immediately. It’s warm enough in here, especially now that you’re trapped on the chaise between her and the fireplace, that you can take off the capelet without having to worry about catching a chill. 

You take the book from her paws and run your fingertips over the embossed cover. “Carmilla…” your voice trails off and you look up at your host curiously, but she simply gives you a coy if knowing look and gestures at you with her chin to open it and begin. “In Styria, we, though by no means magnificent people, inhabit a castle, or schloss.” 

When you begin reading, your host has her arm draped over the top of the chaise by you, and you can feel the burning heat that comes off of her chest and arm as she keeps just a hairsbreadth of space between you. She’s staring down at you with intense jade eyes, half lidded and listening to your voice with rapt attention. 

Carmilla turns out to be a novella about a young woman being stalked by a vampire, but the undertones are…sensual, to say the least. A little over halfway through you’ve found yourself with a blushing face and racing heart, especially as with every passing moment your host has gotten slowly closer until your soft thigh is pressed firmly against her muscular one, and your head is nestled against her ribs. You can hear the soft whoosh of her breathing, the shift of her rib muscles and diaphragm a soothing rising and falling pressure. 

“Sometimes there came a sensation as if a hand was drawn softly along my cheek and neck. Sometimes it was as if warm lips kissed me, and longer and longer and more lovingly as they reached my throat, but there the caress fixed itself.” You stutter in your reading when you feel the soft fur of the back of one finger caress up your throat to your jaw slowly. The little whimper you let out makes the woman beside you chuckle, and when you glance up at her from under your lashes you find her pupils slightly blown and her eyes deadly focused first on your throat and then on your face. 

Using one paw she gently pushes the book down into your lap, then grasping at your waist as the paw trailing along your neck cups the back of your head. Her cold nose nuzzles against yours before she presses the front of her muzzle against your lips. The kiss is unique, like her, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Her hot, panting breath fans across your face as you slant your lips against her own thin ones. Your hands tangle in the scruff of her neck as she pulls your body flush against hers, slowly guiding you down on the chaise. 

You’re resting against the singular arm of the chaise while she looms above you. The paw at your waist slowly tugs up the skirt of your dress until she can plant one of her hugely muscular thighs between your legs, the uses the other leg to brace herself against the floor. She nuzzles your jaw and neck, licking a stripe up your throat to your chin before tightening her fingers slightly in your hair and staring down at you hard. The thin ring of her iris is a burning green, and her expression is almost feral but incredibly sensual.

Whatever she sees in your eyes, it’s exactly what she was searching for, if the triumphant low growl she lets out is anything to go by. Her sharp teeth gently nip at the junction of your neck and shoulder, making you whimper and clutch tighter on the fur around her neck. She soothes the gentle sting with a hot swipe of her tongue that makes you gasp and pull closer. Her teeth and tongue journey slowly south until she reaches your exposed clavicle. She noses the top of your chest then, tugging slightly on your hair to force you to arch your back.

The corset and dress already push your breasts up, so your arched back only gives her easier access. She nips gently at the rising swell of your bosom before sliding her long tongue between them to lick at your sternum. The feeling of that rough tongue on your sensitive skin has you releasing a low moan of “oh gods.” Her answering chuckle and the tightening of her fist in your hair again force your attention down to her.

“No gods here, pet, only your queen.” Your answering whine makes her laugh throatily, and the paw on your waist trails up your stomach and over the swell of your breasts. A flex of her paw and twist of her wrist has your dress slashed open to your navel. Your corset is a simple cream affair with a bit of pretty lace detailing, and she removes her paw from your hair to cage both around your chest just under the swell of your breasts. Without any warning or pretense she simply tears your corset in half, popping the busks completely off and sending the metal scattering somewhere on the carpet. 

With your dress and corset both ruined, she simply tugs them off of you and throws them somewhere behind her. You’re left in nothing but your shift, stockings and bloomers. All of the white material against your skin makes you look so innocent and corruptible. This time, though the attention of her mouth is still being lavished on the exposed skin of your upper chest, her paws are slowly caressing up your thighs, toying with the silk ribbon acting as your garter before pushing up further, gathering the fabric of your slip up along her arms as she caresses your hips, finally touching the bare skin of your waist. 

You almost cry out at the feeling of the rough pads of her paws on your soft skin, her fingertips running gentle but firm circles against your waist. You’re clutching at the back of her head now as she noses just into the neckline of your shift, blowing hot air over one puckered nipple. She growls when your hips buck against her thigh and leans further into you, giving you more friction. “So sensitive…” She’s more whispering to herself than to you, but she still locks eyes with you as her paws slowly, so slowly, push up your stomach and ribs to cup your breasts. You let out a breathy moan, throwing your head back with ecstasy as those rough palms make contact with your sensitive nipples.

She cages them between two fingers, gently rolling your stiff nipples beneath your shift as she laves her tongue over them above it, the contrast of her soft furred fingers and the rough, wet linen has you squirming beneath her in no time. She soon becomes impatient and, eager to see your breasts bared before her, pulls your shift over your head. It joins your dress and corset on the floor soon enough, and she draws your attention back to her when her tongue licks up the underside of your breast and over one puckered nipple directly. “Oh, fuck…” 

She chuckles when you curse, groping at one breast while she lavishes the other with attention from her tongue, only pausing to reply. “I didn’t know you had such a mouth on you, pet, we’ll put that to use later…” Her voice is dark with promise, and you’re desperate to know what she means. 

She spends what feels like forever lavishing attention on your breasts, and you never want it to stop. The heat that’s been pooling in your abdomen all morning seems to have reached its peak, and you’re a whimpering mess beneath her before she’s even gone down below your waist. She leans back on her haunches to admire her handiwork, your blushed and panting visage, your swollen nipples begging for her tongue, the way your hips gently rock up towards her begging for something you aren’t quite sure of. 

With deliberately slow intensity she undoes the string holding up your unders and tugs them down your thighs, leaving you in nothing but white stockings. Although with the construction of the garment their removal wasn’t strictly necessary, there’s something so vulnerable about being naked beneath your queen. Yes, yours, you want her so badly, need her. You’d worship her if she let you, but right now she was content to do the worshipping, and really who were you to deny her? 

Her paws are making their way up the outside of your legs, lingering for a moment at the line between your stockings and your skin. When she fully grasps your hips, claws just pricking at the small of your back as she clutches you, she tugs you hard against her thigh. The raspy fabric of her breeches does nothing to soften the steel hard muscle beneath, and she gazes down at where your labia press against her.

She’s warm against you and the way she slowly drags your vulva over her thigh, flexing beneath you, makes you collapse back into the chaise. She has your hips lifted completely off of the cushion as she takes control of the pace. You can see a distinctly wet stripe forming on her breeches as she moves you against her, the room slowly growing hotter with the scent of your sex. She keeps her movements calculated, only brushing your clit just so whenever she wants to hear you make that particular little whine she likes just so much. 

“Such a good girl…” The praise makes you whimper, and when she leans down to nuzzle your throat you bare your neck up at her, trusting and submissive. “So good for me pet, I need you to let go now, let it happen. I’ve got you.” You aren’t exactly sure what she means. Sure, you’ve touched yourself before, in the dead of night while you father was away, but nothing you’ve done to yourself has even come close to how you feel in this moment with her. Still, you try to relax and let you, blanking your mind of anything but sensation. 

She begins to move you more in earnest, pressing her thigh more firmly between your own and making sure to angle your hips to scrape your clit over and over against her hard muscle. She knows you’re close when your inner thighs start to twitch uncontrollably, your toes curling. When you call out for her with a shrill “oh gods, my queen” as your orgasm washes over you she howls alongside you in triumph. 

Her paws are gently petting up and down your thighs and hips as you come down for your orgasm, settled back down against the cushions of the chaise. She’s looking down at you with gentle eyes, but still black with arousal. “You’re so beautiful, sweet. Always, but especially when you cum for me.” Her voice is a dark growl at the end, but it doesn’t scare you. It sends a new rush of arousal through you, making you moan as your already sensitive pussy twitches in automatic response. She chuckles as she smooths her paws over your stomach and ribs, gently rubbing and relaxing muscles you didn’t realize were so tense after her ministrations. 

Her tongue laps at your neck and shoulders, peppering you with her own unique kind of kisses. You move your hand to her jaw, pulling her up so you can press your lips against hers in a kiss of your own. She flips to lay on the chaise and pulls you up over her, laying your nude body against her own clothed form. You stay like that for a while, the crackling fire the only interruption between the two of you as you cuddle and kiss, occasionally talking but mostly reveling in each other’s presence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And for anyone curious, Carmilla is a real novella, it’s available for free on project gutenberg!
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr under the same name! Come chat with me!


	4. The First Shot Fired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ballroom scene, but first more smut. Things are heating up in town with Gerard, the big climax is next!

It’s an interesting sensation, having your nude skin pressed up against the clothed form of another. Your Queen’s clothes are made of fine material, but still slightly scratchy against your bare form in comparison to the well worn soft linen you’re used to having against your skin. Her fur is a luxury, and she lets out a content purr when you bury your face into her neck. It’s an hour of cuddling like this before you’re interrupted by a tap at the door. She pulls your form into her, covering your nudity as she bids whoever is on the other side to enter. 

Dinner is set up for the two of you, and when the door shuts quietly again your queen lifts you from the chaise and sets you on her lap in front of a small but lavish spread for two. She fills her plate and begins feeding you and herself in turns. Dinner is strangely sensual as she locks her eyes with yours, that burning green turning you into a pile of putty in her lap without even trying.

Once the savory food is finished your queen leans forward and places the empty plate across the table at the unused place setting. Her front is pressed firmly along your back, and you can feel her breasts against the back of your head. She leaves her weight leaning against you as her arm comes across your waist to pull you down snug against her. “Dessert, pet?” 

You gasp as a cold, wet piece of fruit is pressed on your sternum between bare breasts. It’s dragged up your chest and throat to press against your lips, and the sensual groan your queen lets out when your lips part to taste it makes you moan in return. The burst of sweet juice is intense, it’s a flavor you’ve never tasted before but you chase the rest of the piece after you finish chewing your first bite, licking the sweet sticky flavor from the fingers of your lover. 

She turns you in her lap, your thighs parted wide to straddle her own, and leans to kiss you slowly. Her tongue savors the flavor of fruit in your mouth as one of her paws blindly grasps at another piece from the assortment on the table. A strawberry is pushed against your lips and you take the whole morsel into your mouth, suckling on her thumb as it brushes against your tongue. She allows your hands to explore down her neck and chest, slowly unbuttoning the crisp white garment and revealing soft auburn fur beneath. Her breasts are bound in stiff linen and your clever fingers release the edge of the binding allowing the fabric to pool down onto her lap. 

Her nipples are dark against the thin auburn fur of her belly and chest, a beacon for your curious lips to wrap around. She purrs from deep in her chest and buries her hands in your long hair, still mussed from her earlier attention. Your hands caress up and down the soft, downy fur of her stomach, lips occupied with her breasts, until you’re ripped from her with a growl. You’re dropped onto the divan, staring up at your queen with lust-blown pupils. The way she tears at her breeches is primal, and they’re halfway shredded on the floor along with her underthings when she’s finally standing bare before you. 

Her body is an impressive mass of muscles and fur, and when she stands above you, one knee up on the divan by your head as your little hands caress up the inside of her thighs, you’re sure you could worship this work of art forever. “It’s time for you to finish your meal, pet.” Her voice is sultry, and you’re almost begging for it as she slowly lowers her plush labia down to your face. You suck on one of the puffy outer lips of her pussy as she grinds against your mouth, groaning at the feeling your hot little mouth on her. 

Her claws lace through your hair, tugging you up firmly against her as your tongue finally pushes between her lips into her hot center. She’s burning against you, but tastes so good, lightly salty and acidic, but also sweet. You go in like you’ve been starved your whole life, and in a way you feel like you have been. Your queen lets out a broken cry of your name and you feel suddenly powerful. Your lips find her clitoris, the little bud you know feels so good when you touch yourself, and your tentative suction and the featherlight swipe of the tip of your tongue makes her grind down against your face harder. You giggle against her, upping the pressure and effort of your tongue, groaning pleased with yourself as she squirms over you and works herself over your lips. When her thighs clamp around your head you’re momentarily concerned and startled. The loud string of curses and praises that leaves her throat before she collapses over you, bracing herself against the arm of the divan as she pants over you heavily, at least tells you you’ve done something right. 

After a moment she growls from deep in her chest and snatches you up again. Sitting heavily in the wingback chair nearby she has you flipped in her lap. Your back is pressed against her chest, ass up towards her face as your thighs are spread over her shoulders. She noses the crease of your thigh, inhaling deeply and groaning in satisfaction. “My turn, pet. You smell so sweet, I bet you taste even sweeter.” That’s the only warning you get before her long, rough tongue licks its way up the cleft of your labia. 

You cry out for her, fingers tangling in the fur of her skull as your hips struggle buck against her firm grip. You want to get closer to her, feel more, but she has you just where she wants you, splayed out for her across her body. “Oh even sweeter than I imagined, you’ve ruined me for cakes pet, fruits have nothing on your juiciness, I’m afraid I will need this every night for the rest of my life to be satisfied.” She dives back in, her efforts redoubled as that clever tongue presses into your quivering pussy and licks its way up and over your clit. The action is repeated and repeated and repeated until you can’t make any coherent words any more, lost completely in the feeling of her magic tongue on your sensitive core. “Please, want to, need to…” You’re whining and writhing against her, and she just chuckles against you, almost snarling as you beg her for release. 

Her cold, dry nose is rubbing over and over the swollen bud of your clit as her tongue plunges in and out of your throbbing pussy. The way she has you squeezed and held against her means that you can do nothing as she works you over expertly. Your triumphant, “thank you, my queen” as you call out loudly and gush against her face makes her purr sonorously. Slowly she turns you in her grasp, until you’re right-side up and curled against her chest tiredly as you slowly sag into the comforting embrace of sleep, warmed at the front by her chest and at the back by the fire. 

It wouldn’t be the first time she’s slept out in the library in one of those chairs, but it is the most comfortable night of rest she’s ever gotten doing so. Your little form is so soft and warm in her lap, your breath against her neck, the way you cling and nuzzle closer to her in your sleep as though you’re afraid she’ll leave you. She has a full night planned for you by the time she’s ready to drift off with closed eyes, it shouldn’t be too hard to get together and she hopes that by the end she’ll be able to confess her feelings with words instead of just sex.

The morning is chilly, but you wouldn’t know that wrapped up as you are in the furry arms of your lover. You’re instead brought to consciousness with soft kisses and licks, her face nuzzling against the crown of your head and down over your neck. The cherishing kiss she gives you once your eyes crack open and greet the day makes you feel loved, and when you sigh up against her and cling closer she feels her heart melt all the more. 

She tells you to relax today, but please stay in your room. Carina will be by sometime after lunch to help you get dressed and prepared for the evening. When you ask what the occasion is, she simply thumbs your chin and gazes down at you longingly. “I just want to do something for you, sweet.” Your protests that she’s already done so much, too much, more than you could ever repay, are just met with soft chuckles and another kiss on the forehead. “There is nothing for you to repay. It is freely given.” 

She carries you, both of you nude, back to your room. A bath has been drawn and is waiting for you, and although you try and entice her to join you she turns you down. You can see that it’s a fight, but you don’t press, not wanting to torture the poor woman, maybe just tease her a bit. You lounge in the steaming water until it’s cold, occasionally using a bucket of hot water to adjust the temperature. You’ve never luxuriated so long, and by the time you get out with clean hair and self you’re actually ready for a nap. So you take your hosts’ words to heart, crawling into bed and sleeping the better portion of the late morning away. You don’t awake until Carina knocks and comes barging in, tutting at you for sleeping on wet hair.

She gets your long hair set in curls before she begins the process of dressing you. Instead of pulling you into her in a tumble this time she takes her time, lacing you into a pale ivory corset and carefully arranging a sunshine yellow and gold dress on you. It’s strapless and tight to your waist before curving out like a bell. A true court ballgown, the fine silk shining against your skin and lovingly hand stitched with citrine gems along the sweetheart neckline and along the waist of the gown. By the time you’re ushered out of your room to dinner you don’t think you’ve ever looked finer. 

The grand staircase has been polished to a gleam and laid with a startling and vibrant red carpet. Your queen is waiting on the second landing below, before the staircase branches off to the East and West sides of the castle, and her back is turned to you. At the first sound of your heels on the marble she turns, and the way she stiffens and her eyes widen when she lays eyes on you makes you giggle into your hand, feeling a feminine power you aren’t sure has ever coursed through you before you met her. 

She’s dressed in a lavish royal blue velvet suit, with a gold waistcoat and gold piping that matches your dress. Her breeches are the same dark blue velvet with a gold stripe along the outside, and she’s got a white silk cravat on with a pretty pearl-capped pin keeping it in place. She fiddles with her cuffs nervously, staring up at you as though you hung the heavens as you glide as gracefully as you can manage down the stairs. She holds her arm out for you, and the smile she beams down at you as you hook your hand into the crook of her arm makes you melt. She walks you to dinner like a gentleman should, and pulls out your chair for you before seating herself to your immediate left. 

Dinner is quiet, broken only by her murmured comments of your radiance and the fidgeting she’s doing with a long box placed to the left of her place setting. As she stands you move to do so, but she gestures for you to remain seated. She grabs the box next to her and moves behind you, caressing your bare shoulders with the pads of her paws before allowing the claw of one thumb to gently graze your throat. Your head tilts back, baring your neck, and you gaze up at her as she looks down at you longingly. She removes her hands from you for a moment, and you can hear the opening of that box before she sets it down on the table beside you, still open and now empty. A cool sensation around your neck has you glance down, and a beautiful double string of pearls is sitting at your throat as she deftly fastens the necklace. “They were my mother’s. My father gifted them to her on their engagement…” She caresses your neck and shoulder lovingly, the knuckle of her fingers just grazing the jewelry before she offers you her hand to help you stand. 

You hadn’t been in the ballroom before now, but the way it’s been cleaned to pure sheen and the way the warm light of the candles bounces around the marble makes the whole place feel like it’s glowing. It’s almost ethereal, especially with the high vaulted ceilings that seem to stretch up into darkness and how weightless you feel from the attention of your host. The waltz that starts up seems to come from nowhere, but you aren’t inclined to question it as your queen bows before you before offering her hand out to dance. You curtsey back, and the smile she gives you is full of such open affection you aren’t sure how to handle it. 

You dance for what feels like hours, spinning and giggling on the marble floor until you’re dizzy from the wine and the dancing and the proximity of your host. She takes you out onto a huge balcony, sitting you down on a stone bench before wrapping herself around you to keep out the chill. It’s finally stopped snowing somewhere between this morning and right now, and it leaves a pang in your heart knowing that you’ll have to leave sooner or later. “I would give you anything you asked - old, riches, books, anything - if you’d just stay with me.” Her voice is plaintive and quiet, her eyes full of a depth and sincerity that she usually tried to mask with her aloof demeanor. You smile at her gently, eyes full of longing, and cup her cheek. Before you can lean in to kiss her though you’re broken apart by a flaming arrow shot directly between the two of you. It buries itself in the stone floor of the balcony and is quickly snuffed out by the cold and damp. 

It’s Gerard, and his lackey, but no one else. As soon as your queen stands her full and frightening height to roar at him as a clear challenge, he flees. She chuckles and you laugh, clinging to her happily as she smiles down at you, a bit embarrassed. “If I’d known that’s all I needed to get him to go away I’d have tried that sooner.” You joke, nuzzling your face into the scruff of her neck. The sincere moment has been broken, and it’s late enough that instead of going back in for more dancing she walks you to your chambers and bids you goodnight with a searing kiss. 

Gerard makes it back to the village quickly, angry and terrified. As far as he could see through his spyglass, you’d never looked more radiant. And that feminine, submissive, longing look he saw was not directed at him but at some...some monster! He couldn’t take it, couldn’t understand it. You’d rebuff his advances but you’d get in bed with some creature?! He couldn’t take it. So he roused the village, told the story of the beast he saw keeping you captive, and by the time evening was falling the next day he had an entire contingent of village men ready behind him with torches, rifles, pitchforks, axes, literally anything they could get their hands on. His status was enough, combined with his story of the huge, hideous beast who growled and chased him out of the forest. And if you got caught in the crossfire, well, he’d still come back a hero. “Oh that hideous beast” he’d say “got her before I could get up to them. I was just too late.” He’d cry, and there would be copious amounts of ale to dry his tears, and women to warm his bed, and he’d just have to find someone else to marry who hadn’t been corrupted by such an inhuman creature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr under the same name! I have a Discord too, find my link on my Tumblr blog!


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